


Bucky's Personal Jesus

by pure1magination



Category: Bucky Barnes - Fandom, Captain America, Marvel, Stucky - Fandom
Genre: Friendship/Love, M/M, Memories, POV First Person, Psychological Torture, Sad, Stream of Consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2014-05-31
Packaged: 2018-01-27 19:32:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1720049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pure1magination/pseuds/pure1magination
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Winter Soldier remembers one thing, and one thing only about his life before becoming an assassin.<br/>Who is the man who haunts his dreams?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bucky's Personal Jesus

I am an assassin. They call me The Winter Soldier. (Why winter?) (Why soldier?) 

My purpose is to kill. I am a master spy, a master killer. I learn fast. I speak many languages. I obey orders. They are proud of me.

They scare me.

I have a secret. I must keep this secret; they take secrets from me. I am good at keeping secrets.

The secret's name is Steve.

I don't remember much about my life before they gave me this new arm, before I became The Winter Soldier. But I remember some of it. The memories both comfort and unsettle me. They are only snippets-- the snippets shorten every time I am un-frozen. But I hold them close. (Please don't forget.)

I held Steve close at night. He was shorter than me, skin and bones. He coughed and shivered in his sleep. I wrapped the blanket tighter around his tiny body and pressed his head against my chest. (Were we brothers?) (I do not think we were brothers. I think we were... something else.) Worry punctured my stomach when Steve got like this. I needed Steve. (Why? What was he to me?) (Where is he now?)

Steve wanted to join the army. (No! Don't!) (You'll die!) _(I can't lose you!!)_  I think he succeeded.

My only other memory feels like a dream. It's the first thing I see every time I wake up. I'm on a table. I'm cold. Steve calls to me. (What did he used to call me?) (Can't remember..) I open my eyes. _Steve._  He helps me to my feet, his face full of love (Love?) and worry. (He loved me.) "I thought you were dead!" he exclaims, tears in his eyes. His eyes are so blue. Steve has wonderful eyes. "I thought you were smaller," I said. That's right-- he used to be smaller. Why is he so large in this memory?

There's an explosion. Running... through a burning building. _I remember_. Steve tells me to leave. If he stays, he will die. "NO! _NOT WITHOUT YOU!!!"_ I shouted. Can't live without Steve. Can't leave him behind. Can't let him die.

I... loved him. (I still love him.) 

Steve... where are you, Steve?

I hope you are all right.

* * *

 This was not always my life. Memories float through my mind like shrapnel of another time. Faces scatter by-- it's like looking through a kaleidoscope, but blurry. A man. A woman. Lots of faceless women. (Was I popular?) Pain.

There is one face that I remember distinctly. He looks at me so trustingly. I must have been someone else. He could never trust me now. He's so small, so frail. I want to protect him. I... _have_ protected him. (Who is he?) (I can't remember his name.) 

They don't like it when I remember things. I try not to remember around them. When I remember on missions, it is a distraction. But once the mission is over, on my returning journey, I have time. Time to remember. I smile. His voice is deep, for one so small. His eyes are earnest. Kind. Wherever he is, I hope he is all right.

Must enter with a poker face. Mustn't let them know I remember.

They are pleased. I have completed my mission. I am rewarded with a return to the cold chamber once more. I have come to think of it as home.

* * *

 I don't mind being frozen. My temperature lowers so suddenly, I barely notice. My eyes close, my breathing slows-- it's just like falling asleep. I look forward to my frozen bed at the end of every mission; it's the only time I feel peaceful. I don't have to think. Don't have to remember, to wonder who I am.

As the years have gone by (what year is it, anyway?), the memories have faded, one by one. They want me to forget. They don't like it when I question them. I don't like the machine with the electricity. It hurts. Whenever I remember something, they strap me down to this chair and strap this vise around my head, flood my brain with electricity. They give me something to bite down on so I don't crack my teeth. It must be for my own good. They are kind. They take care of me. They feed me... (who are they?) (better not to question.)

But there is one dream that I keep having, every time I wake up. A man leans down over me. He is wearing brown and green. His face is smooth, his eyes a blue I want to sink into. He calls to me, his words muffled. I think I used to know what he was saying. He reaches out, his hands warm. He doesn't mind my metal arm. (Do I have a metal arm?) (Yes.) (I must have always had it...) When I see him, I feel... warm. "I thought you were dead," he says, tears in his eyes. I thought I was, too. Why didn't I die? (How did I die?)

Every time I reach out to touch him, he disappears, and I see them. They tell me my mission. I must obey. I... enjoy it.

* * *

 Another mission completed. Another moment of peace. (Who knows how many years it will last?)

Must be dreaming... who is that man? He smiles. Limbs are frozen... yet I feel warm? Who are you? (Do you exist?)

Mission: kill. (What else is new.)

Target: acquired.

Difficulty level: easy. Like hunting rabbits. (Did I hunt rabbits?)

Target: terminated. (Am I proud? Satisfied? ..sad?) (Best not think about it. Don't like the machine.)

Back to my cold bed. Back to peace...

* * *

 Blue eyes. Feel warm. (Who are you?)

Angry. (Why?) (Don't like this job...) (Must obey.)

Mission: kill Captain America. (Stupid name..)

Target: acquired.

Difficulty level: interesting. A challenge.

That face.

Who are you?

I... _know_ you.

_I know him._

No--! Mustn't think. Must obey. Must... kill.

Target is skilled. Arm is damaged. Must repair.

They will not be pleased.

They yell at me. They are angry. "I know him... I know him...!" is all I can say. I know him. His name... what is his name? I see him every night. Every morning. Whenever they wake me. He keeps me warm. "I know him...!"

No. Not the machine! I KNOW HIM! PLEASE! DON'T MAKE ME FORGET--! DON'T MAKE ME--!

**PAIN.**

* * *

 Mission: kill Captain America. Do not fail this time.

Target: acquired. Must be careful. Target is skilled.

Target insists on calling me Bucky. Who the hell is _Bucky?_ He must have me confused with someone else.

Target is behaving erratically. Refuses to engage in combat. Mission has become easy. Feel triumphant. Raise hand to deal killing blow. Target is still talking. Some nonsense. (Don't listen.) (Why do I hesitate?) (Weak! Kill him!)

"'Cause I'm with you... 'till the end of the line."

_Steve._

_His name is Steve._

_STEVE!_

NO! MUST KILL!

He-- he's falling! No! _Steve!_

Air whooshes past me. I must have jumped. (Who am I?) (I _know_ him!) _(Steve!)_

Water slaps my body. There is pain. I.. have fallen before. He was there. (Did he push me?) (He was holding out his hand...) (No. He wouldn't push me.) _(Who are you??)_

Finally, he is in my arms. (Why did I think, "finally"?) I bring him to shore. Must save... target. Target. I hate that word. (Who am I?) ("Your name is James Buchanan Barnes...") _(Bucky.)_

He is safe. I... I cannot save him. He is alive. I must leave. Must... abort mission.

I can't kill him.


End file.
